


This Is A Love Story (Latin Scholar)

by LittleMissLiesmith



Series: The Better The Lives We Lead [8]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: F/M, High School AU, Implied dubcon, M/M, Queerplatonic friendship - Freeform, Removed from canon within the fic, i'd forget I ever wrote this but I think it's pretty good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissLiesmith/pseuds/LittleMissLiesmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love comes in a lot of forms.</p><p>(Removed from A History of Mondays continuity Because Of Reasons, kept online because I like it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is A Love Story (Latin Scholar)

**Author's Note:**

> Despite what it may seem like, this is not a romance story.
> 
> Warning for implied dubcon between sixteen-seventeen-year-olds. The age is legal in Maine, where the story takes place, but if you’re triggered by that best to be on the safe side.

_September 1992_

A short list of what Cedro Ramon knew about Maine:

1\. Lobsters  
2\. Lovecraftian horror stories  
3\. Amityville (or was that New York?)  
4\. Boarding schools for the snooty and rich.

It was the last that was directly relevant to Cedro’s current situation.

He stood on the steps of the Desert Bluffs Preparatory Academy dormitories and watched the towncar that had brought him and his parents from the airport to the school drive away. It was a pretty nice day, he supposed, although nothing like home; sunshine, light clouds, a chill to the air.

It was a good deal unlike home.

He put a hand in his pocket and felt the little medallion he carried, running his thumb over the raised letters on it before turning and pulling his suitcase behind him into the building and up a flight of stairs to what would be his home for the next four years, bar a change in roommates.

He actually had a roommate, the first time he would have to share his space. The paper said he would be staying with a Lovino de la Rosa, another freshman, and that classes would begin the next day; rules were outlined on one page, a schedule on the next, signups for sports and clubs…

Cedro opened the door to his room, tossed the paper on the closest desk, shoved the suitcase in a corner and flopped on one of the beds, halfheartedly wondering if he should pull out his cassette player and blare the music before deciding to stay on people’s good sides for at least a day or two.

He got up after a few minutes and stepped out into the hall only to be knocked over by a girl running full-tilt past the door.

Cedro fell back through the doorway as she crashed into the potted plant across the hall. “Whoops, sorry!” she said, muffled by the leaves as she pulled them back from her face, revealing wide, bright green eyes and thick layered hair. “I didn’t realize anyone would be here so early.” She stepped out of the plant and brushed the dirt off her jacket. “Most people don’t show up until noon.”

“S’okay,” he mumbled, pushing up and standing. “Why were you running?”

“It gets me places faster.” She stuck out a hand. “Celeste Santiago. Call me Coco. You?”

“Cedro Ramon.” He held out a hand and she took it. “Just Cedro, I guess.”

Celeste grinned. “Nice to meet you, Cedro! I’ll look forward to seeing you around.” She released his hand and took off down the hall again, spinning around the corner. After a moment he heard her running down the steps, and then nothing.

“…huh,” Cedro said after a moment before heading back into his room and digging the cassette player out of his suitcase, popping in a tape and laying back on the bed with the volume all the way up.

 

_January, 1994_

Celeste was studying in her room when someone knocked on her door, very quietly. She got up and answered, brushing her feathery bangs out of her eyes. “Who— _Cedro!_ ”

Her best friend’s face was wet with tears and paler than she had thought possible, eyes red and hair hastily tied back. He launched himself into her arms when she opened the door, tugging it closed with one hand as he hugged her neck tightly with the other arm and began to sob.

Celeste hugged him tightly, gently shuffling to the bed and sitting on it with him next to her as his other arm went around her and his grip tightened, face buried in her jacket. “Shh,” she cooed. “Cedro, what’s wrong? Where’s—where’s Jillian?”

At his girlfriend’s name Cedro began crying harder. Celeste rubbed at his shoulder blades. “Okay, okay,” she said gently. “Sorry. Shh.”

After a few minutes had passed, the tears subsided. Cedro hiccupped, pulled away, and scooted to the other end of the bed, staring down at his hands. “Sorry,” he whispered with an ashamed tone.

“No, it’s okay,” Celeste said. “It’s okay. This is what a best friend is _for_. Cedro, what’s—is Jillian okay? You said you two were going to…you didn’t…hurt her, did you?”

He shook his head. “No,” he muttered. “Everything went fine. It all _should’ve_ been _fine_. Why wasn’t it fine?” He buried his face in her jacket again, hair tickling against her neck as his shoulders shook.

“Oh.” Celeste looked down at him, rubbing little circles into his back. “Mm…Cedro. Quick question—how many girls have you dated at this point?”

Cedro bit his lip. “Er…Jillian, Anna, Caroline, and Mason. Four.”

“How many did you really enjoy yourself with?”

“…none. But,” he said quickly when Celeste opened her mouth to speak again, “I know it’ll happen! I’ll find the right girl and everything will just….click! It’s…Jillian clearly wasn’t the one, that’s all.” He swallowed hard, paling again, and it occurred to Celeste to wonder exactly what his reaction had been—aside from the crying.

She nodded anyway. “Cedro, I understand, but…have you ever considered that maybe you’re not, you know, attracted to girls?”

Cedro’s eyes widened almost comically. “No,” he said quickly. “No. No _way_. I just have to find the _right girl_.”

“Cedro. You’re sixteen. Even sex with a girl you didn’t like should’ve been good. You’re _crying on my bed_.”

“I’m _selective_ ,” he defended. “Don’t even say things like that, Coco. It isn’t _right_.”

“Cedro, listen to me, it’s perfectly fine for you to like boys. This isn’t an issue—“

“Coco, it’s a _major_ issue, and if you could just shut up that would be incredible, thank you very much!”

Celeste pulled away, hurt. “I was just saying,” she said. “That’s four girls. You haven’t liked any of them. By all rights sex shouldn’t make you cry and—and _throw up_ —“ The look on his face told her her guess had been spot on. “That isn’t right,” she said gently. “It should be something nice. And clearly that isn’t happening. I’m just saying that maybe you should entertain the idea that you’re not attracted to girls. Or, for that matter, maybe you’re not attracted to anyone. Who can say? Just…give it some thought.”

Cedro stared at her a moment, then got up, left the room, and slammed the door behind him.

After a few minutes, Celeste sighed and headed upstairs to the boy’s hall. “Cedro?” she called, knocking on his door and trying the knob. It was locked tight. “Cedro, listen, I’m sorry. You don’t have to think about that kind of thing if you don’t want to, okay?”

She slumped down and sat against the door until Lovino de la Rosa came running by a couple minutes later. “Hey, Lovi, Cedro won’t open up. Can you give me a hand?”

Lovi gave her a dazzling grin, the little rosebush scratches of scars surrounding his mouth stretching to his cheeks. “Sure thing, Coco!” He pulled the little brass key off from the string around his neck and unlocked the door. “One sec, lemme make sure he’s not undressed or anything.” He stepped in. “Cedro? Hey, what’s-- _holy fucking shit, Cedro!_ ”

 

_June, 1996_

There were eleven girls that Celeste knew of—Anna, Mason, Caroline, Jillian, Amy, Carmen, Elise, Jessica, Louise, Bonnie, and Parker.

Past Jillian, Cedro had slept with all of them, gradually getting more and more intense as the time went on. Those who Coco asked agreed that he was pretty good in bed, and that they had enjoyed it, but hadn’t thought that he felt the same way.

She sat on a bench under a large oak tree as her parents socialized, her cap on the seat beside her as she looked down at the little scroll that would for all intents and purposes determine her future. She felt someone sit on the bench beside her and looked up after a moment. “Cedro!”

“Hello,” he said, giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. It was entirely different from the way a couple would kiss or the way that Cedro kissed his girlfriends. “Well, _mea cara_? Are you ready to say farewell?”

“No,” she admitted. “I’m not. I’m used to it here, and….” She sighed and stared off at the pond a few yards away. “Robin and his friends are taking me down the coast for the summer,” she said after a minute. “And after that I’m going to Uni. You?”

Cedro bowed deeply. “You,” he said, “are speaking to Cedro Ramon, Classicist at Columbia University.”

Celeste blinked, then jumped up and hugged him hard. “Cedro, that’s fantastic!” she enthused. “I’m so happy for you!”

Cedro grinned sheepishly and hugged her back. “All the best of luck to you, _mea cara_ ,” he said. “I hope you and Robin have a nice time.”

“I’m sure. And Cedro?”

He pulled away and looked at her warily.

She sighed, taking his hand and tracing the patchwork of scars on his wrists and arms. “Think about what I’ve been saying,” she said gently. “You’re eighteen now. You’re allowed to make your own choices and religion isn’t everything, you know.” She touched the tip of her nose to the scar closest, making Cedro laugh. “I’m not saying I’m right or not. Just…think.”

“I will,” he said, for once no venom in it, not hiding anything.

“Good.” She released his wrist as Adelaide came over to collect her. “I’ll see you again, Mister Latin Scholar.”

“I’ll see you too!”

 

_August 2014_

Celeste hopped off the stage, pulling her buttonup closed and smiling winningly at the patrons as she sidled over to the bar. “How’s it going?” she asked the bartender as he handed her a cocktail.

“Quite nicely, Miss Santiago,” he said respectfully. “You were, ah, very nice up there.”

“I concur.”

Celeste turned sharply at the familiar voice. “Cedro!”

“It’s Isadoro now,” he said, sitting on the stool next to her and laying his leather jacket down on the table. He looked older than she would’ve expected him to—something around the eyes—with long shaggy hair and sunglasses pushed up on his forehead. The scars on his wrists and arms, not to mention a few suspicious bruises on his neck, were fully visible. “Er…I may or may not be…on run from the law?”

Celeste blinked. “Right,” she said. “I saw that on the news a while ago.” She sat down and passed him a cocktail, which he downed in a gulp. “So what’re you doing back in town?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been travelling. Substitute teaching mostly, with a few…side professions.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Isadoro, I run a strip club. Just spit it out.”

“…prostitution, mostly,” he admitted. “Might I have another drink?”

“You can have all the drinks you want.” She signaled the bartender and slid another one across. “So wait, have you been homeless? All this time?”

“Homeless is a strong word,” he said. “I’ve been…sans a proper dwelling for a good many years, yes. Since prison.”

Celeste sighed and rested her head in her palm. “There’s only one thing to do then, I suppose.”

Cedro tensed up and eyed her warily. “Which is…”

“The spare room’s upstairs, of course. You can park your car out back.” She stood. “I should introduce you to my sons.”

“You have children?”

“Indeed I do. Two beautiful boys. Noah and Caesar.” She led him to the staircase behind the bar. “Come on, let’s get you set up with a shower. You smell.”

“I don’t exactly have a shower in my car.”

“You’ve been sleeping in your car, of course you have.”

“Sometimes I have motel rooms.”

“And I know exactly how you’re getting those.” They made their way up the little staircase and into a hallway. “Kitchen, living room, Noah’s room when he’s not at school, Caesar’s room for the same…that’s where I am…and you can stay here.” She opened the door to a small, clean bedroom. “Well?”

Cedro smiled genuinely and hugged Celeste. “Oh, I missed you, Coco.”

“Missed you too, you asshole.” She hugged back. “Did you figure things out, at least?”

Cedro’s hand automatically flew to his pocket and he rubbed the medallion, tracing the letters in Latin only to skip along to a small folded photograph. “Yes,” he said carefully. “I do believe I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> So a bit of explanation as to why this exists:
> 
> If you go to Isadoro's blog, you'll see pretty quickly that he is indeed homeless, lives in his car, comes back to the King's Ransom, and is a hooker. He is also horribly afraid of women/anyone with a vagina (including trans men and nonbinary) due to experiences and comes back to the Ransom because of his deep and all-encompassing love for Caesar.
> 
> Caesar in this verse is 18 years younger than him (he has been aged up for timeline reasons).
> 
> Clearly that wouldn't work so I discussed it with the mun and asked if he would be afraid of a woman he had known for over twenty years and who had only ever given reasons to trust him. She agreed that he wouldn't be afraid of this woman, and that was Celeste.
> 
> So for this verse, rather than being madly in love with Caesar, Cedro has a deep bond of friendship with Caesar's canon mother Celeste, who fills much the same role--a mediator, voice of reason, and grounder--minus the sex.
> 
> Isadoro exists at isadororamon.tumblr.com.
> 
> And a bit of explanation as to why this STILL exists:
> 
> My entire world was turned upside down and sideways last January, but this is still some of the best writing I've done.
> 
> And because Wrath will never, ever read this again, let me use this public forum to finally get out what I really want to say but also don't want to hurt her with:
> 
> I'm the one who sent that anon ask, I'm allergic to cats you bitch, and I cannot believe you forgot all about everyone who did everything for you all this time.
> 
> There. I feel a little better now.
> 
> Good day, everyone.


End file.
